Love Thy Neighbor
by KeepingUpDisappearances
Summary: The vicar finally vows to stop going out of his way to avoid 'the Bucket woman', but will he succeed? He is determined to do so, especially with his wife waiting to see what will come of his resolution. The vicar will indeed will be put to the test as he tries to tolerate his neighbor, Hyacinth Bucket. [Post-'Forces of Destiny'. Semi-onceshot].
1. The New Sermon

The soft rain pelting against the window was the only sound on an otherwise quiet Saturday night in the town of Binley Woods. Michael Evans, the town's resident vicar, was working on the following morning's sermon. Sitting at an ancient roll-top desk, he wrote intently, concentrating hard.

Michael was usually able to dash off a good sermon in just half an hour, but it was already well past that time and he had only written a few lines. He stared at the paper for several more seconds, and then stabbed the paper with his pen, uttering an unapologetic "damn".

From where she sat on a comfortable sofa, Alice Evans looked up from a book she was reading and gazed at her husband with affectionate amusement. She had a good idea of just what the subject of the sermon was.

At that moment, there was the sound of paper being crumpled; a wad of paper sailed through the air and nearly hit Alice square in the face. Protesting playfully, she lobbed it back at Michael with perfect aim.

"That's not nice!" Michael pretended to chide her, laughing.

"I know," Alice said mischievously, and went on, "You seem to be having a bit of difficulty with your sermon tonight. Attempting 'love thy neighbor' again, are you?"

"Well, yes. I do like most people that I've met, except—"

"Yes, I know of whom you are thinking," Alice said with a knowing smile. She returned to her reading and Michael retrieved a fresh sheet of paper. Once again he began to write; he was determined to finish this sermon.

Half an hour later, he pushed back the paper and pen and stood up with a sigh of relief. After closing the roll-top lid on the desk, he settled down on the sofa with his wife.

"Well, I've finished it," the vicar said triumphantly. "Yes, Hyacinth 'Bouquet' _is_ my neighbor—I can't help that."

"How enlightened you are!" Alice said wickedly.

"I have something to announce," Michael said. He paused for effect and then continued. "I have vowed to stop avoiding the Bucket woman."

Alice laughed outright, turning to look at her husband with a crooked grin.

"You don't think I can do it, Ally?"

"Wel-el…as George Washington was reputed to have said, 'I cannot tell a lie'. I'm sorry, dear, but that's what I think."

"You'll be surprised!" the vicar reproved, somewhat defensively.

"Yes, I think that goes without saying," was Alice's sly comeback. Michael laughed good-naturedly. "Well, I walked right into that one, didn't I? Still, I _will_ stick to my promise! You'll see, Alice Evans—you'll be taking back your words!"

"If you say so, dear," Alice said mildly.

…

"If you stay 'round when the Bucket woman wants to talk to you, I'll humbly admit that I was wrong," Alice said the following morning as she and Michael stepped out of their home on the grounds of the vicarage and started on the short walk to the church.

"You'll be doing that," Michael said determinedly. "If Emmett Hawksworth can do it, I can—you know he's always been rather nervous around Mrs. Bucket."

"'It's _Bouquet'_," Alice said airily, trying and failing to emulate Hyacinth's voice. "Anyway, it's a little different with Emmett—he married into her family, you know. He actually seems quite at ease with Mrs. 'Bouquet' now."

They were approaching the front lawn of the church; gazing around the congregation, which was already gathered, Michael spied a violently red hat bedecked with huge yellow poppies and sighed heavily.

"There she is," Michael muttered, but dutifully kept walking forward. Perhaps he could engage someone else in conversation before Hyacinth noticed him. Alas, the woman herself turned at that moment, spied the vicar, and smiled broadly.

"Vicar, how _lovely_ to see you," Hyacinth said with the ingratiating tone he hated.

"Hello, Mrs. Buck—Bouquet," Michael corrected himself quickly. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing quite well, thank you. Richard will be along in a moment; he's talking to Elizabeth Warden. Vicar, since it's a few minutes before the service begins, I just wanted to invite you to—"

Michael suddenly looked (unconvincingly) reflective. In a voice that was equally suspect, he muttered something about having left the notes on his sermon at home.

"Excuse me if the service is a little delayed, but I must review my notes…one more…"

The vicar paused when he saw a subtly expectant expression on Alice's face. Rose and Emmett, who were standing beside Hyacinth, also exchanged knowing glances with each other. The vicar resumed his forced smile.

"What were you saying, Mrs. Bouquet?" he said amiably.

"I'd like to invite you to a supper in honor of the Queen's birthday. That's next week," Hyacinth said proudly.

"Of course I'll be there," Michael said quickly, wondering if he'd gone quite mad.

Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was time for the service to begin. As he strode toward the church with Alice walking beside him, he gave her a smug smile. She shrugged her shoulders in mock defeat.

"I admit it, you succeeded—this time," Alice said.

The vicar's 'love thy neighbor' sermon was not lacking in content, but it sounded rather uninspired, to put it kindly. He was relieved when he came to the end, and the communion service began.

Half an hour later, Michael was standing on the front step of the church with Alice, bidding farewell to the various members of the congregation. He greeted each one heartily, until Hyacinth and her outlandish hat appeared, with Richard in her wake. "Hello, Mr. 'Bouquet'," Michael said cheerfully; he had not had a chance to greet Richard earlier.

"Hello, Vicar, hello, Alice. It's a lovely day, isn't it?" Richard said with a smile.

Hyacinth pushed past Richard and looked scrutinizing at the vicar, which did not bode well for him.

"If you will excuse my boldness, Vicar," Hyacinth said, "you won't mind if I give you a suggestion about this morning's sermon?"

"Not…not at all," Michael said warily.

Without a moment's pause, Hyacinth dispensed her advice, saying, "I noticed the sermon lacked conviction. I understand; it's the first time you've tackled the subject of 'love thy neighbor'. Like you said, everyone is our neighbor—but, someday you'll learn—it doesn't mean we're all _alike_. Different social circles, you know."

"Hyacinth, leave it be," Richard said, looking embarrassed.

"I'm just giving the Vicar some advice, dear," Hyacinth said sweetly. "He is young, and is still learning the principles of these subjects. He may want solid advice from a dedicated parishioner."

Alice bristled; with a rare show of defiance, she tossed her head and glared at Hyacinth.

"I think my husband will ask for help if he wants it!" she said sharply. Hyacinth was surprised, and an annoyed frown momentarily crossed her face, though she quickly resumed her poised demeanor.

"I'm sure he will, dear," Hyacinth said condescendingly. "Now, you needn't apologize for your little outburst. I understand that it's a wife's duty to defend her husband."

"Hyacinth," Richard interrupted, and this time Hyacinth obeyed; she bid farewell to the Evanses (though her manner toward Alice was slightly frosty) and followed Richard to the Buckets' impeccably polished car.

"Of all things!" Alice said indignantly as she and Michael headed back to their house. Her gray eyes were flashing. "Talking to you like that! Advice, indeed! 'Young and inexperienced'! You've been out of seminary school for four years—I think you've had a good bit of experience!"

"Well, I'm glad I'm still young," Michael said humorously, to lighten the mood; Alice relaxed and smiled brightly.

"Young and handsome," she said coyly, reaching up to tousle her husband's hair.

…

The evening of the dinner was crisp and clear, and the air was cool and fresh. The twilight was silky purple, and it seemed too nice of an evening to be 'trapped' in Hyacinth Bucket's dining room. Michael unsuccessfully tried to wheedle Alice into a 'romantic walk in the park'.

"Do stop looking like you're going to your death, Michael," Alice gently reproved as he got into the driver's seat. "Have you forgotten your resolution?"

"Alice, you don't like the suppers any more than I do," Michael pointed out.

"I know. Well, it won't last forever, at least."

If there was one small consolation, it was that this night's dinner wasn't eaten by dim candlelight; the glittering chandelier in the Buckets' dining room was lit, and it threw bits of light on an enormous British flag that Hyacinth had put up. There was a large, framed photograph of the Queen on the wall as well. An elaborate centerpiece of red flowers and miniature British flags dominated the table.

Aside from the Buckets and the Evanses were a few other guests; Liz and a man whom she introduced as her husband, Dean, who was permanently home from overseas; Rose and Emmett; the Major; Mr. and Mrs. Barker-Finch, and Mrs. Councilor Nugent. How Hyacinth had convinced the latter to come, only the latter knew.

Hyacinth greeted the vicar cordially, but she was still slightly stiff in her manner when greeting Alice. Evidently Alice's show of spirit still rubbed raw with the Bucket woman.

The menu was enjoyable; it was composed of some light appetizers, with traditional English foods for the main course, and a variety of tasty desserts (excluding the rhubarb tarts; Hyacinth had forgotten to add sugar).

Hyacinth shrilly sang 'Hail, Britannia' and 'God Save the Queen' during dessert. Mrs. Councilor Nugent was the only one brave enough—or perhaps tactless enough—to visibly cringe, but Hyacinth did not notice.

So, the evening wasn't too unbearable, but the Evanses were still glad when it ended. It was when Hyacinth was bidding them farewell that the vicar was put to yet another 'test'.

"Vicar, I had a most _splendid_ idea. Could I come by your home and see you and your lovely wife tomorrow?" she asked with that ingratiating smile.

" '_May_ I'," Alice corrected Mrs. 'Bouquet', before she could stop herself; Alice had taught English while she and Michael had been dating. Hyacinth frowned, but did not comment.

There was a long pause on the vicar's part. This did not sound good—but to say 'no', and prove that he wouldn't stick with his resolution!

"Yes, you certainly may come around tomorrow," Michael said tonelessly.

"Good! Richard and I will come by at one o'clock. Goodbye, Vicar. Have a lovely evening…you, too, Alice," she said, her manner to the vicar's wife slightly more friendly.

"I tremble to think about what her '_splendid_ idea' is," Michael said when he and Alice were heading home. "May the Lord grant me patience…a good deal of it."


	2. A Lesson in Patience

The appointed afternoon approached, finding the vicar pacing back and forth in the front hall, his eyes constantly on a wall clock. One o'clock. That was the set time. It was quarter to one now; only fifteen minutes until the Buckets would come. They'd be _exactly_ on time—Hyacinth would make sure of that.

Striding into the hall, Alice looked on with light-hearted disapproval at her husband. "Stop getting so worked up! She's not _that_ bad, you know."

Michael stared at her in disbelief. "You're not serious?"

Alice shrugged. "I don't fancy her, myself, but I—ahem—won't go out of my way to avoid her. She _is_ part of your congregation, you know."

A droll smile replaced the vicar's set frown, and he looked at Alice in mock surrender. "You're right," he said reluctantly. "I _could_ improve a bit."

"I think you're doing quite well, overall," Alice reassured her husband. "Everybody is very fond of you—_especially_ me." She put her arms around his shoulders and kissed him lovingly.

"Thank you, Ally," Michael said, pleased at her words and her affectionate gesture.

Just at that moment, the doorbell rang, causing both to startle.

"I wonder who that could be," Michael said dryly. "Well, onward I go."

Striding over to the front door, the vicar flung it open with excessive force; it banged loudly against the wall, and Hyacinth 'Bouquet', standing on the front step in a crisp floral (what else?) dress looked at the former with scrutiny.

"You seem a little tense, Vicar," she said. "Is the stress of the ordained life getting to you?"

"Oh…no," Michael said. "That door sometimes sticks," he quickly fibbed. Alice turned away to hide a grin.

"Well, come in, Mr. and Mrs. Buck—_Bouquet_," he said as cheerfully as he could. He escorted the Buckets into the living room, which Alice had made very comfortable and pleasantly decorated. At least, most people would agree with that. Hyacinth, however, turned toward Alice with a cursory smile and said, unconvincing 'sincerity', "How nice and…_cozy_ your living room is."

"I think it's very nice," Richard said warmly, settling onto the sofa with Hyacinth.

"Thank you, Mr. 'Bouquet'," Alice said gratefully.

The vicar sat in an easy chair, facing the Buckets, with Alice sitting on the arm of the chair. Michael slipped an arm around his wife's waist as he asked patiently, "And why are you calling today, Mrs. 'Bouquet'?"

"I was wondering," Hyacinth said cheerfully, "if you and your lovely wife would like to join Richard and me on a visit to a religious art exhibit in London. I'm sure you could provide some wise insight. All expenses paid, of course."

The vicar was alarmed. London was two hours away—_one _way. Four hours in a car with the Bucket woman! He could imagine Hyacinth dominating the conversation for that length of time. Michael was in a dilemma—he had only promised to stop _avoiding_ Mrs. 'Bouquet', but he also thought he might go a step further…maybe…Also, he thought wickedly, Alice was invited, too.

"We'd love to, Mrs. 'Bouquet'," the vicar said at last.

For a moment, Alice gave her husband an approving smile; then the full reality of the situation dawned on her. _She_ would be going, too! It would be rude not to accept the invitation as well, even if it meant spending a great amount of the day with the Bucket woman.

Hyacinth smiled, looking very pleased. "Thank you, Vicar. I'm sure we'll _all_ have a pleasant day. How does next Wednesday sound? We'll come by at nine o'clock."

"Certainly," Michael said weakly. Hyacinth smiled broadly, Richard said a few words of approval, and the Buckets took their leave, much to the relief of the rather stunned Evanses. What had they just gotten themselves into? Even Alice, with her mild tolerance of Mrs. 'Bouquet', felt that, had she been Catholic, this could count as penance.

Michael couldn't help prodding Alice. "We're both in this together," he said later that afternoon. "Maybe you can sit in the back seat with the Bucket woman—I ought to suggest it to her."

"Michael Evans, you wouldn't!" Alice exclaimed.

"Wouldn't I?" Michael said mysteriously, but he was smiling.

…

Two a.m. on Wednesday.

The vicar was lying in bed. Alice was sleeping soundly beside him, but he was wide awake and staring at the ceiling. In seven hours, the Buckets' showroom-clean car would roll into the driveway, a broadly beaming Hyacinth waiting for the Evanses to come out so that they could all begin their 'delightful little outing'. The more he thought about it, the more he dreaded it, and could not get back to sleep.

"Four hours to and from London, depending on the traffic," Michael started to say, unaware that he was speaking out loud. "She'll want an hour looking at the art—and doubtlessly she and Richard will want to stop for luncheon. I estimate our 'delightful little outing' will take six hours! Six hour with the Bucket woman! I should like very much to cancel. But," he reflected, "if I do, Alice will be unbearable. She'll lord it over me if I don't see this through."

"I will, but do you really need a monologue at this hour?" said a drowsy voice. Michael heard Alice stir under the sheets.

"Sorry, dear," he said. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Well, I'm awake now," Alice said irritably. "Don't get so vexed about today! It'll teach you perseverance. Besides, _I'm_ in on it, too."

"I know," Michael said wryly. "I know _you_ wouldn't back out, so I guess I won't either. Well, I can't sleep now—I _have_ got myself all worked up."

"Go have some tea or something," Alice said lazily, settling into bed again and falling asleep.

Michael did not sleep—much—but he wasn't too unfocused when the sun came up. Besides, he had three cups of strong coffee, and by the time the doorbell rang, he had steeled himself and accepted his fate.

"Come along, Vicar!" Hyacinth said grandly as the Evanses exited their home. She stood in contrast to the slightly overcast day, dressed brightly—very brightly.

Alice noticed that Hyacinth was eying _her_ ensemble. In contrast to Hyacinth's boldly colored outfit, Alice's was more subtle—and much more attractive. A cream-colored, light sweater complimented Alice's dark hair, and a knee-length satin skirt was the same soft shade of gray as her eyes.

Hyacinth, as she did with Liz, was a little too vocal with her opinion about Alice's choice of dress. Perhaps she didn't mean any harm, Alice admitted to herself, but it was still annoying when Hyacinth said, "Shall I give you a moment to change into something more elegant for our outing? Just some friendly advice, dear."

"No, I'm quite all right, Mrs. 'Bouquet'," Alice said quietly but firmly.

"Very well," Hyacinth said. "Now, why don't you sit in the front seat, next to Richard, and the Vicar and I shall have some enlightening conversation in the back seat."

Michael exchanged one strained glance with Alice, who said quickly, "As much as I'd love to sit with Richard, I'm sure he could very much use your help in navigating. It's quite a ways to London, of course."

The vicar was hard-pressed not to cheer at his wife's clever and subtle way of avoiding the problem of _either _of them having to sit with the Bucket woman. True, both of them looked guiltily toward Richard (who was in the front seat studying a map while all of this was going on) but neither of them could quite go so far as to sit with Hyacinth, even for Richard's sake.

Hyacinth, looking very flattered, said cheerfully, "Very kind of you, Alice, to realize how much Richard would appreciate my help. You don't mind, do you, Vicar?"

"Not at all," Michael said, inwardly rejoicing.

Five minutes later, Richard was steering out of the Evanses' driveway, with Hyacinth 'at the helm' beside him. Michael and Alice mutually decided to make the best of the situation, and managed to bear Hyacinth's chatter, broken occasionally by her advice to Richard ("mind the pedestrian"… "Mind the cyclist" … "Mind the squirrel").

…

"Mind the roundabout," Hyacinth said, a little over two hours later. They were heading into London, and it would only be a short bit of time, at least in 'city time', before they arrived at the fine arts museum.

"Minding the roundabout," Richard said tiredly.

Michael and Alice wondered at Richard's patience as he made his way into the heavier London traffic. It took some time, after all, to find the Royal Museum of Fine Art, but at last Richard was pulling into the car park. With a sigh of relief, he found a spot and stopped the car.

"Why did you sigh, dear?" Hyacinth asked.

"Oh, it's that…pesky London traffic," Richard said hurriedly. Michael and Alice looked significantly at each other. Something pesky had indeed frustrated Richard, but it certainly hadn't been the traffic.

"Never mind, Richard," Hyacinth said. "Just relax, and we'll have a good day at the museum."

Hyacinth led the way to the museum entrance, the other three following dutifully behind. After the tickets were paid, they found the exhibit of religious art and began browsing. Hyacinth peppered the vicar with questions about whether each work of art was 'orthodox in its subject'. To his credit, he answered every question patiently enough.

"Ah, a painting of St. Michael," Hyacinth said grandly, winking at the vicar. "Aren't you glad you share a name with an archangel?"

"Yeah, sure," Michael said indifferently.

The next hour indeed tried the vicar's patience as Hyacinth stopped at _every_ work of art, and asked his opinion constantly. Not only did Hyacinth's endless questions test his nerves, but he was running out of responses. Alice and Richard commented on occasion, but were much more casual in their appreciation of art.

"Do you think that painting is too Catholic to be generally appreciated?" Hyacinth asked about midway through their trip through the exhibit.

Michael narrowly avoided rolling his eyes. Hyacinth asked the oddest questions sometimes. He looked at the painting in question, a very lovely portrait of Mary and the infant Jesus; Mary held a rosary in one hand.

"No," he said sincerely. "It's a nice, reverent piece of art—I'm sure people of all denominations can find it inspiring."

Hyacinth nodded before moving on to a statue of St. Peter. The respected disciple was smiling and holding up a Bible, as if preaching to the crowd. Hyacinth studied it for a moment, and then turned yet again to Michael.

"Vicar, don't you think that St. Peter really smiled like that? His mission was much too serious for him to look so frivolous."

Alice interrupted before her husband—who, visibly to all but the Bucket woman, wore a very fixed smile and had a slight tic in his forehead—could speak.

"Don't you think those who spread the Word should smile? The Word of God is a joyous thing, isn't it?" Alice said sensibly.

"You _do_ have a point, dear," Hyacinth said, as if her compliment was a great favor to the vicar's wife.

"Very good, Ally," Michael said in a low voice. He smiled. "Perhaps you ought to take over my job."

Half an hour later, to his great relief, the Buckets and the Evanses were sitting in a pleasant café, ordering their meals. Richard managed to start a conversation and keep Hyacinth from taking over it, so it was surprisingly pleasant hour of talking and eating. Michael and Alice discussed many things with Richard, none of which were centered on religion in any way, much to the vicar's relief.

The ride back to Binley Woods might have been a pleasant once as well, but as they left the outskirts of London and Richard concentrated on driving, Hyacinth turned around in her seat and inquired of the vicar, "Do you think the Church has as strong a presence as it did fifty years ago, Vicar?"

"No," Michael said tiredly. "Not quite as much." He tried to start a conversation with Alice, hoping that Hyacinth would get the hint and leave him alone, but she continued on without pause.

"What a pity," Hyacinth said. "And to what do you attribute the change?"

Suddenly the vicar had had enough. The ordained life might be his chosen profession, but it wasn't his _entire_ life, any more than politicians were always talking and thinking of the affairs of the government. He paused, took a deep breath and then said quite bluntly…

"Mrs. 'Bouquet', I am a little weary of speaking of religious subjects. Perhaps we could move on from those topics now."

Hyacinth looked stunned. Alice silently applauded and Richard looked back in approval before returning his attention to the road. Inwardly, Michael was feeling quite triumphant, though part of him wondered if he was quite awake. Had he really _stood up so unflinchingly to the Bucket woman?_


	3. Mrs Bucket is Surprised

"Mrs. 'Bouquet'," the vicar said unwaveringly, "I am always willing to discuss religious matters—to an extent. But, you see, my profession doesn't define my life. There are other things that I like to discuss and talk about."

There was a long silence; Alice looked at Michael in admiration; Hyacinth, still turned toward them, looked dumbfounded. Alice caught a glimpse of Richard's face in the rearview mirror, and he also seemed quite approving at the vicar's words.

"Why—I—surely," Hyacinth stammered, "I thought surely you'd appreciate discussing topics of a higher nature."

"As I said, I do, but not always," the vicar said mildly. "But there are many other things to talk about—literature, birdwatching, crazy American politics—pretty much anything."

Hyacinth maintained an injured silence for the rest of the journey home, but Richard, Michael and Alice kept up lively conversation. The hour slipped by, and in the depth of late afternoon, the Buckets' car glided into the driveway of the Evans's residence yet again.

Hyacinth and Richard politely exited the car to properly bid farewell to Michael and Alice. Richard said goodbye with his usual warm enthusiasm, but Hyacinth's manner was stiffly cordial. She maintained that she'd had a good time, but there was still an air of injured pride about her.

With all parting greetings exchanged, the Buckets drove away, leaving Michael and Alice standing on the front step of their home. Neither of them said anything for a moment, but eventually they went back into their home and settled into the living room for a snack; they also reflected on what had happened that day.

"Alice, you must admit I went far and above my resolution!" Michael said airily.

"Oh, don't be so proud, that's not right," Alice teased, sitting across from her husband at the table. "You and Hyacinth Bucket ought to have a talk about the sin of pride."

Michael grimaced at the memory of Hyacinth's barrage of theological questions, but said complacently, "I finally stood up to the Bucket woman! I can't quite believe it myself—but I was getting quite tired of the 'theological inquiries', as she put it. I'm sure the Archbishop himself would have been tested."

Alice smiled at her husband and said cheerfully, "Well, you stuck to your resolution—and even more."

"Didn't I tell you? I said you'd be taking back your words, Alice Evans," Michael almost gloated. Alice looked him with mingled affection and humor and laughed merrily. She truly had never expected Michael to stop avoiding Mrs. Bucket—and to go so far as to stand up to her so strongly—_that_ she could have never fathomed!

And, the vicar himself admitted, he had had his own doubts about whether or not he'd succeed at his promise.


End file.
